Today had most definitely been one of those days.
She had been gazing out of the kitchen window for some time,
Her thoughts distracted and disordered as the light was beginning to fade.
This time of year presented the difficult aspect of shorter days where the sunshine reflected her desire to stay in bed,
And more often than not hid in its blanket of clouds,
Making the days seem even shorter.
Motivation was low,
Enthusiasm was low,
And the ability to try and change these things was even lower.
She needed to take a step away from the challenges of the day and change her focus,
If even just for a few minutes.
Sometimes,
The only answer to a difficult day,
Week,
Month,
Year,
Is tea.
There is something innately comforting,
Soothing and ritualistic about making a cup of tea at any time of the day.
It has a unique ability to provide a much-needed moment for calm and reflection,
And perhaps most importantly,
A moment for us.
Rubbing a hand across her eyes,
She turned away from the darkening window and reached for the kettle to begin the rite of making a hot cup of tea.
She ran the tap and watched as the cool,
Clear liquid filled up the stainless steel kettle,
The little window on the side rising up the scale to show how much was inside.
The elemental sound of the water,
The only sound in the kitchen.
She returned the kettle to the base and switched it on.
Opening the cupboard directly above the kettle,
She deliberated on which cup to use,
But decided this wasn't an occasion for just a cup.
This required the teapot.
Hiding at the back of the cupboard,
It was rarely used,
But the glass bowl provided a different aspect,
Allowing her to see the brewing process.
Putting a box of loose-leaf tea,
She dropped two teaspoons of the crisp,
Dark leaves into the metal cylinder inside the pot.
The kettle was starting to boil,
The bubbling water pushing a stream of steam up into the air around her like a hot cloud,
Whistling gently.
It clicked off,
And she carefully poured the freshly boiled water into the teapot,
The scent of the tea immediately drifting to her nose,
And she inhaled appreciatively.
The essence of the tea slowly started to swirl through the hot water like a vapour,
Changing the liquid from clear to a rich gold as it infused,
Steam subtly rising from the curved spout.
Turning her attention back to the cup selection,
She pondered between a large,
Dense mug that required two hands to hold it,
In a stone grey,
Or a smaller,
More delicate cup complete with matching saucer in plain white.
Today wasn't a day for airs and graces though,
It was a day for comforts and simplicity.
It was a day for the grey mug.
She placed it next to the teapot on the kitchen counter and opened the fridge to find the milk,
The cool surface of the card carton a contrast to the hot,
Curved surface of the glass teapot.
For her,
The tea always came first,
The milk always came second,
But no sugar.
The water inside the teapot was now a smooth,
Deep bronze,
Indicating that the tea was ready to pour.
She grasped the handle and carefully tilted the pot so that the tea seeped out into the waiting mug.
More steam escaped as the hot liquid flowed,
The scent of tea perfuming the cool air of the kitchen.
When the cup was three quarters full,
She placed the teapot back on the side and added just enough milk to take the beverage to just below the rim of the mug.
She returned the milk to the fridge and picked up the heavy grey cup by the handle,
The body of the mug too hot to hold straight away.
She turned back to the now dark window and gazed into the gloom outside.
The street lamps had winked on,
Creating little pools of light to help guide people home,
And signalling that the day had transitioned into night time.
The day had ended,
Taking its troubles with it.
For we can only make a difference to the day that we are living.
Yesterday has been and gone.
Tomorrow has yet to happen.
She wrapped her other hand around the body of the mug and raised it closer to her face,
Allowing the heat of the tea to warm the tip of her nose and the tingle of the hot surface of the mug to soothe her palms.
This moment was just for her,
No one else.
She didn't need to look at her phone,
She didn't need to listen,
Talk,
Think about her to-do list,
Or worry about what tomorrow might bring.
Be accountable to anyone else.
This was her moment,
And though her mind did its best to try and convince her otherwise,
She knew she deserved the opportunity to just be.
Just for her.
Just for today.
